Jake Randolph, Private Investigator Pt. 64

I checked into the Nevada Motel just outside Las Vegas, a cheap little dive that had more rats and cockroaches as guests than humans. I assured the ones in my room that I wouldn't be imposing on them long. They grudgingly gave me their blessing and then scurried off to the darker recesses of the room. Maybe they suffered from migraines and the light bothered them.

I sacked out until morning and then got up and showered, had a quick breakfast consisting of toast and orange juice, and then headed to the Department of Motor Vehicles in downtown Las Vegas...